Kreacher
by Pr0nHound
Summary: When you are a houself you are a houself for life, no betraying the master. //Blood, Gore, Gratituos Violence, Probably shouldnt be read by anyone //


The small figure was obviously dead, nothing could be smeared about that much ground without dying or at least wishing it had a couple of times.

"Boy, that's got to be the most disgusting sight I have yet had to witness, and that includes the ghoul that roasted and ate his own feet when hungry last march." said the first man, his robe covered in a thick leather apron.

"Hmm its definitely worse then the ghoul but the vampire that read too many cheap novels by that one hack author and decided to fit in better by getting a tan… it took several days to clean up that mess." Came the reply of the other, he wasn't as fluid proof sealed away like the first but carried a large suitcase.

"Thanks for reminding me, now you put me off my meals for the rest of the week." came the reply as the first kicked one of the larger pieces to see if it flinched.

"Dead." was the verdict.

"Cause of dead?" asked the second as he noted that down on a form sheet.

"Suicide." mumbled the other as he wiped the blood from his shoe at a clean patch of grass.

"Suicide?" asked the other with a sceptical expression.

"Oh of course not, my bad, of course we want to make us work about the corpse of yet another useless house elf my bad." The tirade was accompanied with some expensive gestures towards heaven.

"Suicide." Noted the man down and put the form away.

Unceremoniously they used their wands to gather the pieces and placed them in a metal tub that showed clear signs of previous burnings, when the flames lit up the second man rubbed his temple saying in a deadpan voice: "You know sometimes I hate this job."

*

Dobby was strolling down one of the corridors in the kitchen area, so tightly packed into various layers of cloth he looked a bit like an enchanted laundry basket on a rampage. The lights were dimmed to an almost darkness house elves could see very well in the dark, humming a terribly off key tune while picking up scraps of paper from the floor.

"Oh something written…" exclaimed the house elf and squinted his eyes to read.

"You…" he breathed and looked around, seeing another piece of paper, immediately hurrying for it.

"… shouldn't…" another rapid head movement revealed another piece, close to an old cupboard.

"… have…" Dobby looked around but for all he squinted and shook his ears he couldn't see more of the message. 

"I shouldn't have? Shouldn't have what?" asked he small creature as it scratched his oversized head, taking off a multilayered stratum of caps to do so.

A dark shadow descended in a low arc from the ceiling, making a silent whoosh and a loud thumb as a fourteen pound lump hammer smacked against the side of dobbys head.

The elf went down in what looked like an explosion of clothes, socks and caps flying everywhere and even some of the sweaters being pulled from the scrawny body.

Dobby saw stars, he felt like a whole bookshelf of pain had been checked out on his library card and that people were queuing for a second helping. He heard steps coming closer, something cool and metal was carefully pressed on his forehead, almost delirious dobby mumbled: "I shouldn't have… what?"

With a hiss Kreacher jumped on the saucepan he had placed on the head of the younger house elf, with a pained groan dobby rolled his eyes and his body went limb. 

"You shouldn't have put me to shame and betrayed your master, you are the shame of our family." Hissed Kreacher as he stepped down from the drooling head. A shard of glass glittered evil in the almost darkness as Kreacher proceeded to cut away the rest of the clothes before pulling the figure of dobby into the darkness, a stream of cusses and a wet streak of blood and drool vanished into the night.

*

A wave of cold water splashed into Dobbys face, it was a very special kind of water, the one you only find at special places like in the bowl of a frequently used and unfrequently cleaned public toilet, or maybe the kind of water that's found in a bong, which has brought forth its own eco system of highly specialised and stoned organisms. In every case it wasn't the kind of water you wanted to get splashed into your face, twice not after your head has been used as michael flatly dancing stage.

Dobby groaned but his eyes stayed closed, impatient and being out of water Kreacher just smacked the empty chamber pot against the swollen bruise on the others head.

"Dobby awake, Dobby awake." Squealed the house elf but couldn't raise his hands which felt slightly numb to rub his temples. Forcing his eyes open he saw Kreacher staring at him, much closer then anyone just waking up should have to that is to say, the other had raised the chamber pot again but now lowered it without another smack again looking disappointed.

Looking around as far as the restraints around his head allowed, which wasn't very far at best. He could see that his arms where bolted down to a crude and stained workbench, leaving his hands and fingers relatively free. Before he could muse about his situation Kreacher croaked hateful at him.

"Look at you boy, what a disappointment for your old uncle Kreacher you are, having betrayed your master, brought shame to our family, bad, bad Dobby, very bad." he emphases every bad with another strike using of the chamber pot. "

"Like that other traitor, but we dealt with her, yes we did and in the end she even seemed glad that we gave her the proper punishment for failing her master, oh yes she was glad." raved the wizened house elf on, dropping the chamber pot but holding on to a barbed edged glass shard.

"You killed Winky." stuttered Dobby, showing an amazing grasp for the obvious for once.

"She was filth, just like you are filth, vermin, look at your hands, you used them to help the disgusting mudbloods and raised them against your master. Instead you it was your duty to punish your impure ideas from your much to stupid head with them." He made a break from screeching and continued almost friendly: "But good uncle Kreacher will help you, just like he helped the others, oh yes I will you filthy little traitor."

Without warning he grabbed Dobbys left hand and pushed it flat against the workbench, pushing the shard deep into the wrist of the restrained house elf who started wailing loudly, Kreacher would have to cut carefully to not damage the skin overly, but he had patience and afterwards it was just a matter of stitching.

*

Time had passed Dobby couldn't say how much time but as he saw it the most precise way of counting time currently had the basic unit of the ouch, with higher units known as: that hurt, oh the pain, please let me die, and for the love of god kill me now. On the bright side Dobby figured he could count that his fingers weren't slightly numb anymore, in fact he couldn't feel a thing anymore. He just wished that the same was to be said from his stomach, whenever he looked down at the bones, bleak white things that mostly were covered in a mess of blood and tissue, he felt the urge to haul things up he couldn't have possibly eaten. 

Kreacher on the other side of the table on the contrary looked almost cheerful; he was stitching the last seams together and had accompanied the whole stitching session with almost tuneful cusses about the other things he planned on doing to dobby to purify him of his sins. An inquisitor would probably have fainted halfway through.

With a wet noise he pulled the makeshift gloves over his own hands, moving his fingers carefully to see if the stitches held. "Now now, usually they should be smoked till they are properly dried out before wearing them but they will do, wont they? Now we will do with them what you should have done if you were a proper nephew of mine."

He got up and walked over to the fire, waving his hands in the air like a maestro, Dobbys restrains rearranged themselves, pulling him into a laying down position while never giving and inch away. For a moment Kreacher looked down into the flames then grabbed a pair of pliers and stirred the fire for a moment. He pulled out a golden galleon but after a moment he pushed it back into the heart of the flames.

"Taking money for your services, the shame you put me into with that, but your master, your true master has decided that if that's the way you want to be, you will be paid for the poor services you did to him. Thirty galleons, that's the payment you shall receive." Carefully Kreacher placed his needle and thread on the table, next to Dobbys right leg, then reached for the bloodstained glass shard.

Ignoring the high pitched squeals from the other elf he cut a deep hole in the leg, bend around to grab the pliers and stirred the fire for a coin which he pushed into the open wound. A sizzling sound was heard even over the screams of the house elf while Kreacher proceeded to sew the wound shut.

"See Master is good to you, he does not want you to loose any of your hard earned payment."

*

With great care Kreacher sew the second eyelid shut, a rather difficult task after submerging the last of the red hot coins in the cavity which had formerly held the oversized eyes of his nephew.

Scooping out the eyes had been a rather difficult task, but a kitchen device that originally had been invented to hold potatoes while peeling them had been a great help, the three thin needles had held the eye without causing too much of a fluid loss. In comparison to that sewing the tongue to the gingiva after placing coin number twenty eight under it had been a breeze. As an added bonus the screeching had surely taken a less annoying level of noise after that.

Kreacher stepped back and looked down at what had turned out to be an all nights work, proud of his workmanship, not once had be hurried the procedure so much that the little rat had managed to get a break by falling unconscious. While the last half dozen or so of the wounds still smoked the first ones at the legs already began to ooze wound secretions, all in all a work well done.

Placing the eyes on a golden tablet, the master had specifically asked for them, Kreacher got ready to deliver Dobby back to the blasted school, just after he had proved his master the punishment of the offender.

Lucius Malfoy sat in a high chair in his library, staring down intensely on a chess set, the screaming all night long, while doubtless entertaining hadn't helped his game at all. His opponents face was hidden in the shadows of the opposite chair, only the glowing stub of a cigar told that he was there at all, he motioned his Queen to go to a field where she would be immediately taken out of the game by an enemy bishop, which the figure denied with a haughty turning away from him. With a sigh the man in the shadow picked up the queen and whispered something to her without bothering to take the cigar from his mouth, as he placed her back the figure hurried so fast to reach the designated square that she almost stumbled over a knight.

When Dobbys eyes were delivered Lucius merely acknowledged them with a nod, staring down at the checkmate the other had delivered.

*

Dobby was delivered back into the Gryffindor common room and was found by Ron Weasley who spent several decades recovering from the shock with the help of alcohol.

The department for the mistreatment of magical creatures found the wounds self inflicted and closed the case faster than you can say its lunch break.

Hermione Grainger of SPEW formally protested against the decision, she was fined an undisclosed sum of galleons for wasting the department time.

Harry Potter had to dry clean his robes after barfing all over them when following Rons squealing and seeing Dobby.

Lucius Malfoy lost seven consecutive games and burned the chess set in a hussy fit.

Kreacher remains still at large with the most extensive collection of kitchen utensils ever.

The end.


End file.
